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Updated: June 17, 2025
The figure beside him began to tremble, clenching his bony hands in an effort to steady them; then he looked up. "You know?" he faltered huskily. "You know?" he repeated. Thayor nodded. "You know what I done! God knows I had a right to! They say I ain't fit to live among men." Again Thayor stared into the fire.
Thayor met the owl-like eyes grimly, a bitter smile playing about his unshaven chin, but he did not confirm the statement. "But there's one that'll never trouble ye no more," exclaimed Dinsmore, looking queerly at the man beside him. "Who?" asked Thayor. "Bergstein, damn him!" returned Dinsmore slowly; "I seen him." "But he left the camp days ago the morning I discharged him."
William Holcomb, ready for Blakeman's hand in the morning. Two days subsequent to these occurrences and some hours after his coupe loaded with his guns and traps had rumbled away to meet Holcomb, in time for the Adirondack express Thayor laid a note in his butler's hands with special instructions not to place it among his lady's mail until she awoke. He could not have chosen a better messenger.
All through the night that followed Sam Thayor slept soundly on his spring bed of fragrant balsam, oblivious to the Clown's snoring or the snapping logs burning briskly in the stove, his head pillowed on his boots wound in his blanket. Beneath the canopy of stars the torrent roared and the great trees whined and creaked, their shaggy tops whistling in the stiff breeze.
Thayor sat looking steadily into the hollow, tired eyes like a man in a dream, forgetting even to question him further. Moreover, he knew he was telling the truth, and that Dinsmore's frankness was proof enough that he had much to say to him of importance. Somehow he felt that in his disconnected narrative he would slowly lead to it. His character in this respect was much like his father's.
"I trust you will have a pleasant journey," returned Thayor and with a nod to Billy the two disappeared through the door of Thayor's den, before the man with the scrubby beard could finish his sentence. Bergstein tucked the envelope within the black portfolio and went down the steps to the buckboard waiting to take him out to the railroad. The boy Jimmy drove, Bergstein taking the back seat.
Now and then someone more shrewd than the others would write direct to Thayor, and on the strength of a formal business answer "You might inquire of my superintendent, Mr. William Holcomb," etc., etc., would use the document to pave the way for an introduction. One evening in June a rickety buck-board rattled up to Morrison's and inquired the way to Big Shanty.
He was patient now. Alice Thayor thought of these things as she gazed out upon the strange, silent pond. It was the first time in her later life she had taken time to think. Mental anguish has its sudden changes. When we have suffered enough we seek the pleasant; to suffer requires effort. When at last we shirk the work of being unhappy we forget our sorrow.
For some time neither the trapper nor the Clown spoke. Both sat amazed, silently gazing into the fire. Then Hite said slowly, turning to the Clown: "Freme, I dunno as if I ever seen a nicer man." Once outside Thayor stretched his arms above his head. "Ah what a day, it has been, Billy," he sighed. "What a full, glorious day, and what a rest it has all been.
This artistic result was due to the personal supervision and good taste of the same architect who had designed the house of marble. Fortunately Alice Thayor had taken no interest in it. "Excellent!" exclaimed Thayor, as he poured the hot water into Billy's temperate portion of Scotch. "The bedrooms are a delight.
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